


And You Know I'm Not Holding My Breath

by torakowalski



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/pseuds/torakowalski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I got you a detention,” Clint says.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Phil rolls her eyes.  “Please, I got myself a detention.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	And You Know I'm Not Holding My Breath

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking AU prompts over on tumblr and anonymous asked for 'Highschool au! female Phil and (male or female, either way) Clint?'

“You know, if you keep ignoring me, this hour is going to drag by,” Phil says, swiping her paint brush clean on the side of the tin and shooting a sideways look at the boy next to her.

He shrugs one shoulder. “It’s already boring.”

“Because you’re ignoring me,” Phil explains patiently. She adds a couple more strokes to the whispy white cloud that she’s painting in the middle of a bright blue sky and feels weirdly satisfied when it actually ends up _looking_ like a cloud.

Art is not her thing. It doesn’t look like it’s Clint’s either, which is probably why Principal Fury picked painting sets for the drama department as their detention punishment.

Clint snorts. “’cos you’re so thrilling?” he asks.

Phil doesn’t let herself smile but she wants to. “I am,” she agrees.

That earns her another snort but this time it sounds closer to a laugh. Pepper would have told her to give up by now, but Phil’s on a mission and she’s going to get this kid to talk to her by the end of the period, if it kills her.

But first, she paints another cloud.

“Shouldn’t you be mad at me?” Clint asks. He’s not painting much of anything, just flicking his paintbrush at the bottom third of the board, where the grass is supposed to be.

“Should I?” Phil asks. “What have you done?”

Finally, Clint actually looks at her. Not that she acknowledges it since _she’s_ still looking at the board. 

“I got you a detention,” Clint says.

Phil rolls her eyes.  “Please, I got myself a detention.”

Clint mumbles something that she doesn’t catch and fidgets with the end of his brush, getting green paint all over his fingers.  “You didn’t need to get involved,” he says.  “I had them on the ropes.”

“Sure,” Phil agrees although she isn’t sure.  There were five of them against one of Clint and he’d looked just about ready to hand himself over for a beating when they’d threatened to break his bow.  “It seemed more efficient to help out.”

Clint doesn’t look at her.  “But you didn’t need to do it.”

“Wait,” Phil says slowly, “are you pissed because you got your ass saved by a girl?”

That gets Clint’s attention.  He looks her full in the face for the first time since they both turned up for attention and got immediately abandoned by Mr Summers.  “What?  No.  Is this the fifties?”  Phil could say something there, but decides against it.  “I don’t care about  _that_.  That ninja shit you did was fucking awesome. I just…” He loses his point and goes back to looking awkward, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I don’t get why you did it.”

“So we could have this lovely bonding experience, of course,” Phil says dryly.

Clint grins, ducking his head.  She starts to wonder, not for the first time, if a lot of the fuck-off attitude he flashes around school all day every day comes from this supreme awkwardness.  “No, but seriously.”

She could tell him that she’s more serious about that than she’s comfortable admitting.  (It’s embarrassing, it’s a damn cliché, this… fascination she has for the weird new kid from the wrong side of the tracks.)

“Because I hate those jerks who were picking on you and I’ve wanted an excuse to kick them in the head for a long time.” That’s true too.  Bucky got to take them down after they beat on Steve last year and Phil’s been itching for her turn. 

Clint looks up at her from under his bangs. “You sure did that.”

Phil smiles smugly and doesn’t say anything else. 

“So, hey,” Clint says after a pause. “I’m not sure if I said thanks?”

“Don’t mention it,” Phil says, shrugging.  She looks down at the paints that Mr Summers left them with.  “Do you think we could add some dinosaurs without anyone noticing?”

Clint laughs.  “Sure, if you know how to draw dinosaurs.”

That’s a good point.  Phil doesn’t.  “Okay, a bird then.”

Clint solemnly hands her one of the smaller paintbrushes, already dipped in black paint.  “Knock yourself out.”

Phil spends a second contemplating flicking him with paint instead, but she’s not sure they’re at that stage of their friendship yet.  Or that Clint knows they’re building a friendship. 

“Thank you,” she says instead and carefully draws a neat black V up next to her cloud.

Clint squints.  “The fuck is that?”

“A bird,” Phil tells him dangerously.  When he still doesn’t look convinced, she concedes, “from very far away.”

“At least give it, like…” Clint leans around her and lengthens the bird’s wings, adding a little pointy nose and tiny legs with disproportionately huge tallons.

“Pterodactyl?” Phil hazards.

“Fuck you it’s a hawk,” Clint says.  “It’s going to swoop in and eat up the whole fucking school one day.”

The end of that sentence sounds harsher than the start, like he might not be all the way joking.  Phil doesn’t blame him; he’s only been at her school five months and it’s obvious he’s been miserable the whole time.

“Maybe not you,” Clint adds, almost too quiet to be heard, when Phil can’t decide what she should say first.

She looks up at him and pastes on a grin.  “Why, Clint Barton,” she says, and presses a hand to her chest.

He rolls his eyes at her, but his cheeks go pink.  “Shut up,” he mumbles under his breath.

Phil braces herself and decides that this is probably the best opportunity she’s going to get.  “When we get out of here,” she says.  She can hear it coming out too quickly, but can’t work out how to slow it down. “Do you want to get lunch or a milkshake or something?”

Clint stares at her.  “Together?” he asks.

Phil say something sarcastic back but she doesn’t want to scare him off.  “If you like.”

“I, um.” Clint becomes suddenly fascinated by their painting.  “Yeah, okay.  That’d be cool.”

“Cool,” Phil says, trying to sound unruffled.  It’s not really a date; if Clint doesn’t want to date her, she’ll still want to be his friend, but it’s definitely a step in the right direction.  “Now, draw me another man-eating hawk, Barton.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clint says.  His thumb brushes her knuckles when he accepts the paint brush that she hands him.


End file.
